Page 3 of Forbidden Billionaire (Titans #7)

Chapter Two

Seraphina

Gravel crunches under my sneakers as I slam my car door shut in the parking lot that’s behind Poison Girl. Houston’s humidity wraps around me like a second skin I can’t peel off, but I’d rather drown in sweat than ever face Xavier Blackheart again.

Seeing him tonight ripped open wounds I swore were scars.

The bar’s neon signs hum, splashing pink and blue across the live oaks sagging over Montrose Boulevard. A food truck’s barbecue smoke drifts up the block, mixing with the sticky-sweet stench of spilled beer on the patio.

The jukebox inside wails a twangy alt-rock tune. Cicadas buzz, relentless, like the memories careening through my mind.

Before I go in, I check my bank app. $42.47. I sigh. I need gas, so I have just enough for a five-dollar happy hour rosé and a tip. Food can wait until later. As usual.

I tug at the bottom of my faded black tank top, the one I threw on after ripping off that godforsaken maid’s uniform.

With my arms bare and my short shorts riding up my thighs, I’m free of that polyester prison.

I’d incinerate the ridiculous getup if I could, watching it curl into ash for turning me into Blackheart’s “yes, sir” girl.

Three years ago, I was an MBA star, my spreadsheets slicing through boardrooms like a scalpel. Now I’m scrubbing penthouses for pennies, covering Tina’s shift at the Sterling because she’s down with the flu. And of course I run into him . The man who torched my life.

I thought I’d never see him again, that I’d buried his shadow when the press branded me a traitor. But tonight, in that glass-and-marble penthouse, his gaze pinned me, and his voice was low and terrifying. “Naughty girls get punished.”

At the scorching memory, my tummy plummets, and I’m appalled at the way my body reacts.

Shaking off the all-too real thoughts, I push open the gate to the patio. Right away, Lila spots me and jumps up to wave me over.

Within seconds, I’m seated across the wobbly table from her.

She’s already down to half a glass of the cheap wine we both drink. I know she can afford something much better, and she generally goes to much nicer happy hour spots. But she’s a good friend for meeting me here.

“So what’s going on?” she demands before I can even shove my phone into my back pocket. “Your text said you had a hell of a day.”

“You can’t even begin to imagine.”

“Some rockstar trash a suite?”

“Worse.” I slump against the back of the chair, and one of my sneakers has already stuck to a beer-slick wooden plank.

“A double shift?”

“That caused part of the problem.” Exhaustion is my greatest enemy.

She leans forward. “So tell me.”

A server swings by, tattoos covering every bare inch of her body. She looks harassed and bored at the same time. “What are you drinking?”

“The happy hour rosé.”

“And I’ll have another.”

She nods. “Appetizers? Food?”

“Just drinks. Thanks.” I feel guilty, taking up space when I know she’s busting her ass for tips like I do, day after day.

$42.47 flashes like neon in my mind. Gas, rent, a barely running car. Blackheart. And here I am, pretending I’m not drowning.

Without writing anything down, the server moves off, and Lila taps her fingers impatiently against the side of her glass. “I’m waiting.”

I exhale, not knowing where to jump in. Even I’m not sure I believe what happened. “I fell asleep on the job.”

“You…? Fell asleep? Like on a chair or something?”

“I told you, it’s worse than you can imagine. I was making a bed, and… It just looked so tempting.” And it was. The Sterling hotels are known for their luxurious mattresses and bedding. I mean, they’re so exclusive that they even sell them in an online shop.

“And you’re exhausted.”

“Yeah.” When I’m not working, I’m applying for jobs or driving around town picking up food and coffee orders and delivering them to people who are crappy tippers.

As long as they get their mocha frappes with extra whipped cream in the morning and loaded burritos at night, they don’t think about the person who waited in the restaurant lobby for twenty minutes so they don’t have to.

Which is why I’m going to give our server more than I can really afford.

“I’m guessing you got caught?” She shrugs. “Otherwise it would be no big deal, right?”

“Exactly. But you’ll never believe whose bed it was.”

I’m saved from telling the whole sordid story by the arrival of the server with our drinks.

When we’re alone again, Lila picks up the wine she still needs to finish. “Don’t do this to me. Whose bed was it? It was the rockstar, right?”

I take a long drink before confessing. “Xavier.”

“Blackheart?” Lila’s glass hits the table with a thud, her eyes wide. “Get the fuck out of here. The Xavier Blackheart?”

That was the nickname we’d given him when he’d ruined my career and made sure I’d never work in corporate America ever again.

Three years ago slams back: the glass conference room at Blackwell Enterprises.

He and his team were pitching a massive urban revitalization plan—a flashy expansion meant to be Xavier’s legacy move.

He wanted to transform underdeveloped city blocks into sleek, luxury commercial zones.

But the numbers didn’t add up. The timelines were unrealistic. The cost projections? Delusional.

I raised the red flags. First quietly. Then in front of the entire board.

I told the emperor he had no clothes.

He didn’t deny I was right.

He fired me anyway—for daring to humiliate him. For making the men his father had appointed question whether the golden boy could actually lead.

I was twenty-two, fearless, thinking he’d thank me for saving the company. His eyes locked on mine, sharp and unyielding, like he saw right through me. “You’re mistaken, Ms. Hollis.” His tone was ice, but his gaze seared, and my skin hummed beneath his attention—a stupid crush I buried fast.

Then the leak hit, my name in headlines: AMBITIOUS INTERN BETRAYS BLACKWELL ENTERPRISES.

He let me take the fall. For pointing out someone else’s mistakes.

I’d been alone in my small apartment when I saw the news. People I thought were friends abandoned me. Job offers were rescinded. My parents cut me off, embarrassed by the scandal, afraid for their own reputations.

I lost everything—my career, my future, my pride.

“Earth to, Sera.” Lila snaps her fingers in front of my face, making me realize I’d been lost in the past. “Of all the people on the planet, you had to fall asleep in his bed? And he found you there, just like Goldilocks. What are the chances?” For a second, she sits back, looking as shellshocked as I still feel.

We both take another drink.

“So then what happened?”

My cheeks flame, hotter than the summer sun.

I can’t stop the replay. His fingers graze my spine, and his breath is hot on my ear. “You can walk out. Or you can pay your debt.” I should’ve run. Instead, I knelt on the bed, lifted my skirt, and let him…

“Sera?”

Exhaling deeply, I shake my head. I’m still so confused that I’m not sure I can bring myself to confess the horribleness to Lila.

“He recognized you.”

“Yes. And I think he saw it as a chance to get a little revenge.”

“Fuck that. Like ruining your life wasn’t enough revenge?”

I take another drink and wish I could afford a second glass. At least I think there’s a little bit left in a bottle that’s tucked in the back of my refrigerator.

The jukebox fades to a mournful croon, and the patio’s string lights flicker as a small breeze stirs the air. I grip my glass, my knuckles white, the memory of Blackheart’s hand on me too real to voice.

Lila leans back, her brow furrowing. “What did he do?”

“He threatened to call security. Or I could accept his punishment.”

“What the actual—?” She shakes her head. “Punishment? Who the hell does he think he is?”

“He, uhm…” I still can’t believe the whole thing happened. I clear my throat. “He suggested a spanking.”

Lila’s eyes narrow, and when she speaks, her voice is low. “And did he? Spank you, I mean.”

“Yes.”

“You need to file a complaint.

And ruin my reputation all over again? If I’ve learned one thing, it’s that Blackheart always wins. I shake my head. “You know I can’t do that. He’d destroy my reputation a second time.”

“He’s a bastard, Sera.”

His touch seems to linger, searing me. I hate him. But the truth I can’t tell anyone is that I didn’t hate the spanking he gave me. “Now I’m stuck with him. He’s playing his dirty little revenge games. Told me to come back at seven tomorrow, dressed like a maid.”

Her hand finds mine. “That’s twisted. What does he want? To keep you under his thumb?”

“I don’t know,” I say, my voice small. “Maybe to torment me. Control me. Break me.” That uniform… It’s like he’s mocking my MBA, chaining me to his side. I imagine his gaze raking over me tomorrow, that slow, predatory smile.

So what does he want? To spank me again?

My stomach twists, fear and something darker tangling together.

“I have to go back. I need this job. Rent’s due, my car’s dying.

But walking in there, in that outfit…” It feels like chains, a symbol of my fall—from boardrooms to brooms, and he wants to rub it in my face.

Lila’s eyes are filled with sympathy. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

I exhale as the jukebox switches to a slow, twangy tune, Houston’s heartbeat pulsing through the patio.

“I thought he was out of my life forever. After the headlines, my parents’ silence, I buried him in my head.

I buried that girl who dreamed of his approval, who blushed when he leaned close in meetings.

But tonight, he was right there, and I… I reacted to him.

Like an idiot. His voice, his hands—they got under my skin, just like back then. ”

Lila’s voice softens, but her eyes glint. “I bet he did. You always lit up around him, even when you hated him.” She sips her wine, her gaze steady. “Your eyes spark when you’re mad, and Blackheart’s got you blazing.”

She’s right. I want to burn him down. Like he burned me. “He wants to gloat.”

Lila’s face hardens, and her voice is fierce.

“I saw you break down when your parents cut you off, when every firm slammed their doors. You cried in my apartment, your dreams in pieces. You didn’t let him win then, and you’re not going to now.

” She leans forward. “Go back tomorrow. Not for him. For you. Walk in there, maid’s outfit or not, and show him you’re not that intern he broke.

Prove you’re still the badass who called him out. ”

The server pauses on her way back from delivering an order. “Another round?”

I shake my head. “Just one for me.” I’m a little embarrassed. “Budget’s tight.”

“Another round.” Lila nods. “I got this one.”

Without lingering to listen to us argue, the server takes off again.

I glare at Lila, my pride stinging. “I’ll pay you back.” My hands shake as I drag my glass toward me. “I’m not a charity case.”

“You’re not charity; you’re my girl.” Lila’s voice softens. “Show him you’re not done. Show yourself .”

Houston hums around us—cars on Westheimer, laughter from the bar, the sticky heat pressing in. I want to believe her. I want to walk into that penthouse and face Xavier Blackwell without becoming a molten, emotional mess. But his hands, his voice… I’m not sure I can survive him.

But I have to go back. I need the job.

I exhale. What the hell does he want from me? And why does part of me want to find out?

“What do you think you’re going to do?”

“I don’t know.” My voice is barely audible above the jukebox.

Do I have any choice but to walk into the fire?

The fire he lit.